Ave Azaria
by athrowaway
Summary: When Sam and Dean hunt a series of deaths on a college campus they have to go undercover.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - I _suggest_ you read my profile description before you read this fic.

* * *

"Oh I love this job already." Dean chuckled as he clipped the walkie talkie to the chest pocket of his shirt. It was a dark blue, almost black shade, much like the thick, and stiff trousers of the uniform. Badges stitched onto the shoulders and collar. "Our area is the football field and east wing." Sam muttered as he adjusted the belt of his uniform. "Y'think we'll be invited to any frat parties?" Dean chuckled only to receive a deadpan look from his shaggy haired brother.

It would be a simple hunt, if it wasn't for how big the college campus was. Four victims, torn to shreds, pieces of them missing, three students, one young professor. Everything pointed at werewolf, except the newspapers, those said bear, or mountain lion. The thing was, only two of the victims died in a night of a full moon, so, the Winchesters knew it was likely a pure blooded werewolf. Which only made everything harder.

The students were slowly leaving for the day, Sam and Dean were meant to be wandering around the premises before, and after the evening classes. The summer sun took its time setting, the windows casting orange squares onto the walls, the waxed linoleum floors set on fire. It wasn't very hard to get hired, they applied for janitor, but they were understaffed; and after a routine fitness test, they were handed their uniforms the same day.

It was friday, and when the brothers split up in different directions outside on the green campus with the brick red buildings there was nearly nobody around. Some students had gone home to families for the weekend, and others were likely to be at some parties. It made it easy to observe the few students sitting here and there. Under trees casting long shadows with books on their laps, the few groups or couples walking here and there.

When the sky was just barely light anymore, Dean decided to roam the halls of the main building, although it was not his designated area. When Dean saw the football field through the windows he began hearing hushed voices. He of course followed them, until they went from unintelligible to clear when he stopped around the corner, right by a door open merely a crack. The glass sign beside the door told him it was the changing and showering room for whatever sports team was going to be taking up the giant green plot outside.

"Do you want me to call your father, Zara?" Dean's eyes were on the ceiling as he attempted to figure out what the tone of the voice meant. It certainly wasn't a sincere question, not the question someone who was genuinely concerned about someone asked. It was a male voice, and the only word Dean could think of to describe it was _slimey_.

"No, no I don't think that would be a good idea." Dean just knew it, closing his eyes as if to sigh he gently threw back his head. He just knew it was some young girl in there. She sounded fragile, but not afraid whatsoever, uncomfortable though, incredibly so.

"See. So we're going to have to find another solution. Your future is bright, but if your grades slip… who knows." Now that sounded at least somewhat believable, at least a little like it wasn't straight up blackmail.

"It's um, most people call me Aria, by the way. I can spell it out for you." That's when Dean took a few step back around the corner, pulled the keyring off his belt, and began making his footsteps heard. He played it off as an accident, when he opened the door to the locker and changing room, a random key between his fingers. He had a pretty convincing expression of surprise on his face when he spotted the pair. He wore a dark green sweater, khakis, and the beige collar of a dress shirt peeking out from under the sweater.

She wore a mud green jacket, too big for her, mousey brown hair to about her shoulders and brown eyes. She had a delicate and youthful face, prominent cheekbones, rosey cheeks and big eyes.

"Oh sorry." Dean just barely smirked spitefully when he looked right at the man, clearly a professor, telling him he had heard at least something. "Thought everybody had left already." he apologized half-assedly. When he turned his eyes on the girl they turned softer, as if asking her if she was alright with merely a look. "Gotta lock up." Dean waved a hand, instructing both of them to leave the room. It was only lit by the lamps on the paths outside the large windows, not a light on inside. The professor pushed past Dean muttering something about grading papers, and Dean nodded approvingly at the man's hurry.

When Dean looked back into the locker room the girl was looking through her bag, a mockup of a duffel bag, hanging laxly, clearly almost empty. There was a jingling sound that weren't the keys in the hunter's hand and instinctively Dean searched for the source. Finding a few pieces of what looked like jewelry hung onto a metal ring on the side of the bag.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to take so long." She shrugged at Dean as she walked towards him, and by him.

"You need someone to drive you home?" he asked gently, turning around over his shoulder as he quickly locked the door, uncaring if he was supposed to or even allowed.

She halted in her steps, a hand still in the bag, the other holding onto a strap, pulling it up for her to reach the bottom. She looked into his eyes for a moment, before smiling slightly, clearly having seen Dean was sincere in his offer. "I would love that." she nodded, thanking him with shining eyes. Something about her parted lips once she finished speaking told Dean she really was thankful, that she couldn't believe his offer.

Dean nodded, jerking his hand and motioning for her to walk with him. As they walked down the darkened and ghostly halls of the building Dean fought with himself. He wanted to ask, bring up what he'd heard. At the same time, he didn't want to make her even more uncomfortable, leave her the illusion he hadn't heard or seen anything at all. Though he certainly wouldn't solve the problem of the classic predatory teacher on his own.

"You carry pepper spray or something like that?" Dean held his head low as he turned it to look at her, as he'd been eyeing the floor as they walked.

"What?" She sounded affronted, yet amused. Speaking before she even looked at him, brows furrowed, an amused smile spreading her lips.

"Well you know… the murders around the campus. _That guy_." Dean jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he widened his eyes for emphasis, telling her he was more concerned about the latter.

"Oh… no. Haven't considered it, really." She shook her head, looking back forward, blowing out her cheeks slightly, shrugging.

"Well you should, that guy was a creep." Dean shook his head, showing his disapproval. "Your gym teacher?" he questioned curiously.

"Volleyball coach." she answered casually as Dean held open the exit door for her.

"This the first time, right?" Dean questioned, hopefully. Once she'd passed the door, she stopped to turn to him, waiting for him to walk beside her again. It was a small gesture Dean appreciated. Dean felt confident, non-intrusive in his questions now. She was treating it quite casually, not in a bad way though. It was clearly a concern, but not something she was ashamed, or blaming herself for.

"No, not really. He's been threatening to lower my grade for a while now if I don't… go out with him, I suppose." she shook her head once they walked side by side again.

She was about Sam's age, maybe a little older, despite her fragile features and small frame, Dean knew she was around twenty-three or so.

"He said something about your dad, you should tell him this, y'know." Dean wanted her to see him as a person, not his uniform, not a cop, or the discount cop he was disguised as.

"Oh yeah… no." Dean saw her face contort slightly as if cringing, though once that expression left there was a small smile there.

"I can handle a guy with a midlife crisis. I'll graduate in a few months anyway, so long as I don't piss him off, I'll be fine." She gave Dean an encouraging smile. He didn't like that, it was the 'I'll pretend it isn't as bad as it is, so you feel better' kind of smile.

"So you'll just go along with his shit?" Dean's voice clearly conveyed his discontent.

"It's not as bad as it sounds. He's just a little creepy." She squinted an eye at Dean as if he was the fool of the two.

Dean was silent, his arguments weren't going to lead this conversation anywhere, so he simply shook his head for a while.

"My name's Dean by the way." he gave her a curt but genuine smile, breaking the short lived silence.

"Azaria, but you can call me Aria." She smiled right back, the apples of her cheeks rising as she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Dean couldn't help but think that was an odd name. If he was honest, she looked, dressed and talked plain boring. But then again, names didn't mean much at all. She didn't wear much makeup, not that Dean was good at determining such things, mascara maybe, and that was it. Perhaps her most striking, and only feature that didn't make her look so plain was her voluminous lips. Under her muddy green, and large jacket she wore a dark purple shirt, and dark blue jeans. And perhaps the ugliest beige sneakers Dean had ever seen.

"Alright, Aria. What do you say I give you my number, and if that _coach_ holds you hostage again you give me a call and I'll stop by." Dean spoke convincingly, trying to make the offer sound as tempting as possible.

"Alright." Dean wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected, probably that new touchscreen phone that cost half an arm. But she pulled out an even older phone than he had, it looked like it would lose a fight with a window, a damn brick that didn't even have a camera.

After Dean recited his current number they finally reached the Impala. Dean opened the passenger seat door for her, and when he sat down in his place he pulled out his own phone, quickly texting Sam that he would be driving a random girl home. All he got in return was an immediate 'what the fuck?'. But he ignored it when Aria gave him instructions to her home. It wasn't far, only a fifteen minute drive, through where the local town got denser, and eventually to distant wounds and large fields where houses were large but rare. He kept the radio off, she rolled the window down, the infamous Wyoming wind howling, trees rustling, bugs taking the birds' shift of singing through the scenery.

The house where she told him to stop was far smaller than the ones they had passed. The lights were off, there was a dirt path leading from the poorly paved road to the house. The porch was big, small woods were in the distance behind it. It had a fenced backyard.

She shifted her bag on her lap when she turned to Dean, a hand on the handle of the door already. "Thank you so much for driving me." She smiled at him kindly. Dean only nodded, telling her it was no problem with a smile of his own. He could tell no busses drove this far, and that she would have walked down the empty, dark roads and frightening woods on her own.

Dean turned the car around once she was halfway up the path to her house, pulling out his phone to call Sam.

The next day the brothers roamed the campus together. Dean expected her to call him any moment. It was just a feeling. This time their hours were beginning earlier, at five in the afternoon. Disguised as campus police it was a little harder than the FBI guide, students didn't take them very seriously when they asked questions. They were always in packs, sitting in the grass, it was getting annoying. When the brothers turned away, having given up on yet another group of snotty students Dean spotted a young man strolling down a path. Alone. The first student that was alone, at last. They were quick to approach him. "Just a couple questions." Sam smiled at the student calmingly. when the student looked surprised and nervous when the brothers stepped into his path.

"Did you know any of these victims?" Dean questioned authoritatively as he extended a print of their pictures. The man shook his head, mouth open as he looked at the pictures. With exasperation and disappointment the brothers exchanged a look.

Dean wanted something, _anything._ The sun was going down again, though today the light was silver, the clouds a purple and grey shade. "Alright, do you know an Azaria? People call her Aria apparently, plays volleyball?" Dean questioned raising his brows higher with each statement, eyes squinting clearly telling the smallest knowledge would be an answer they were looking for.

"Yeah. She's in a couple of my courses. Smart, pretty popular." he shrugged, scanning the brothers faces for some indication of whether or not that was a good answer.

"She seem weird to you?" Sam questioned curiously, having heard the full story of Dean's experience already.

"No, not really." the student shrugged casually. "Her dad's pretty weird though, if you ask me." He had an uncomfortable smile on his face as he looked away across the green of the campus, an open mouthed smile. Dean thought any moment he would say 'haven't you heard?' or something like it, but he said nothing when he looked back at them.

"Yeah, how?" Sam tilted his head, smiling falsely, playing the gossip loving college student role he knew well to play.

"I don't know he just showed up one day in her first year after her mom died. Started picking her up. He's a big guy, y'know. Don't talk much, looks pretty damn mean. He's not like creepy or anything." he shrugged continuously as he spoke, evidently not so convinced himself.

"What do you mean just showed up?" Dean frowned, his tone more pressing this time, wanting a straight answer. He remembered telling her father about a real problem was 'not a good idea'? Yeah that was weird.

"Man, I have no idea. I mean everybody that's mentioned or even noticed it says something else. He's a deadbeat, ran off to another state with another woman when she was born. I mean both seems pretty likely, he seems a little young." he mumbled, knowing he wasn't of much help.

"Anything else?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Yeah last time he picked her up couple months ago, he had this like… _huge_ black eye, and his nose looked well broken or something. So since then some folks have been saying he's abusive or something, and Aria finally got him a taste of his own medicine." He chuckled nodding. "Yeah that makes sense actually." the boy continued nodding suddenly, brows furrowing. He wagged a finger as he nodded continuously. "There was a video on facebook of Aria at the wrestling team tryouts, she laid like five seniors onto the mat in no time. She could probably fuck up most guys." he mumbled, a look of joy on his face as if he'd just solved the mystery himself.

"But you said her dad was a pretty big guy. You think she could've really done that to him? What's his name?" Sam questioned in disbelief. Dean hadn't described her appearance to him much at all, and judging by the olders' expression it was unlikely.

"I mean if he was like piss drunk or something, probably. But otherwise… nah. And it's Aiden Voss."

"Alright, thank you." Dean nodded in response.

Who would've thought college students were nicer when they weren't with their damn pack. There was no need to discuss it, no need to argue. Both hunters agreed that they would stop by the girl's house. It was the only lead, the only even remotely odd thing going on on the campus. Though odd in the wrong way, it was at least something. Their shifts were spent roaming the campus once more. Dean wished he had asked for her number in return, so he could announce their visit under whatever pretense would work best.

The mood in the air was rather tense in the car that night. Not a word was said, nor needed to be, even when they walked up the short dirt path, up the steps of the porch and knocked on the door. The lights inside were on, but before they could consider looking through the two windows on each side of the porch the door opened.

"Hi." Dean smiled charmingly at her. The most striking thing wasn't her, it wasn't the tidy, warm and homely look of the interior. It was the strong stench of alcohol that the summer heat only seemed to amplify.

"Yes?" Her greeting smile had slowly fallen into a confused frown once she'd taken in who was on her porch. An arm of hers was still extended to hold onto the widely open door. She was wearing a black tanktop, her shoulders defined and rounded. It was yet another hint, beside the smell, that the boy they had questioned was pretty spot on. She seemed stronger, and more built than even a professional volleyball player. And her large, hideous jacket had done a good job of hiding that.

"This is my brother Sam." Dean motioned to his brother keeping a kind and happy facade.

"We uh… wanted to talk to your dad." he said carefully, giving her an almost apologetic look. Though it didn't seem to matter.

"Sorry but he isn't here right now. He starts work late though, so maybe if you could come back tomorrow mornin' or something?" Dean was alright with that option, though Sam didn't seem to buy, or accept that as an answer.

"You sure? We'll just be a minute." Sam gave her a pitiful and knowing look, a small smile he thought would offer some sort of comfort.

"Yeah, unless you wanna wait 'til four am or something." She shrugged. It was an honest suggestion, and it soothed Sam's worries just a little.

"Alright, what would be the best time, then?" he questioned compliantly.

"Like… early afternoon? I mean, any time that isn't too early he starts work 'round five in the afternoon." she shrugged, brows furrowing as she thought.

"On a Sunday?" Dean arched a brow suspiciously. "What's he do?" Sam followed up quickly.

Dean narrowed his eyes when her face seemed to be stuck entirely, mouth open, eyes wide, looking through them. Though it only lasted a moment, long enough however for whatever followed to be a clear lie. "Mechanic." she nodded her head a little too long, smiling with a thin lip probably congratulating herself for how great her lie was in her head.

"Alright, we'll stop by 'round twelve tomorrow." Dean took his first step backwards, shaking his head once he turned around and hopped down the three steps of the porch with Sam following shortly, giving Aria a curt smile goodbye.

"Mechanic… huh, sounds like something a hunter would say." Dean muttered offhandedly as he turned the car around to head back into the denser town where their motel was.

"You think this guy's a hunter?" Sam questioned incredulously, disbelieving.

"Well it's… I don't think she thought of that answer on her own. I don't know. Could be she hasn't had to answer that question in a long time, forgot what he told her was the answer." Dean shrugged, knowing his argument was weak. But it had merely been a thought, not something he had been convinced of.

"Y'think he was really home...?" Sam questioned cautiously, unsure if he even wanted a true answer.

"Not a fucking doubt." Dean shook his head bitterly.

The following day they had the day off, and decided to look around the town instead, ask the shady shop owner here and there. A good hour after the two split up, Sam came across a large, though empty square, a small church. The concrete had turned into widely spaced misshaped grey bricks. Perhaps it was the thick heat, and his black tie suit, the fact most churches were somehow cool, but something compelled Sam to walk inside.

When Sam opened the ancient looking door, the doorknob was cold, and knocked into his hand when it opened before he could pull. A gruff looking man walked out, right by Sam, wearing a stark blue jacket with a sheep coat collar. He grunted something over his shoulder, and Sam guessed it was meant to be an apology. But when Sam watched him walk away, when the man looked over his shoulder at him as he growled like a hound, Sam could only see the upper half of his face over his broad shoulders. His striking green and blue eye was emphasized by a red and blue frame. A bruise that went from the side of his nose up to his temple. There was a circular looking wound on the height of his cheekbone, red as fire with another just by the outer end of his brow. Sam could only see his face for a moment, but it was all so eminent he couldn't miss it, even when the man turned his head away to look where he was walking. He was broad, and even when the jacket was loose, Sam could tell the man was a mountain of nothing but muscle. But he thought nothing of it when he shook the image of the man and headed inside the church.

Immediately Sam felt relieved, the air was thin and cool, like he had taken a dive into a lake. There was a priest sweeping the stone floors with a broom, when the doors slowly fell shut behind Sam he looked up, a smile hitting Sam immediately.

Sam showed him his current FBI badge, and the questioning began.

"Oh, yes I've heard." At the mention of the murders the priest immediately looked grieved, shaking his head slightly. He was middle-aged, had a five o'clock shadow, brown eyes, nearly black hair. He was nothing short of handsome. A little unfitting for his profession, Sam couldn't help but think.

"Do you know anything?" Sam asked with caution and care.

"Really? Do you know what happened to his face." Sam circled a finger in the direction of his own face, indicating the obvious.

"I'm sorry, son. But I am under a strict vow of silence. These people come to me in trust that only Christ and I may hear." He shook his head once more, an apologetic and consistently sad expression on his face.

"However, I do believe you could ask him yourself. The poor man could use some friends. Now, he don't talk much but he is a good man, all the wrong he has done was in good faith. But doesn't god rejoice when a lost sheep returns to the herd?" he had a soft and genuine voice, much like his smile it was greatly appreciated by Sam.

Though what he said made Dean suspicious, and thinking again about the image of the man. Not only was he a clear suspect for the murder, but perhaps a suspect for being the father of the student they'd investigated.

"Do you maybe have his number, or do you know where he lives?"


	2. Chapter 2

They listened to the clock on the wall tick, Sam watching the pendant on it swing from side to side. It was nearing one in the afternoon.

"Thank you." Dean mumbled when a cup of coffee was placed in front of himself and Sam. His own black as night, and Sam's a caramel shade. "So… Sam… Dean…" She pursed her lips awkwardly as she sat down to their right, the brother's across from each other. Her wrists were resting on her knees, spread apart, fingers laced together between them.

"What do you want from my dad?" She questioned when both brother's raised their brows at her questioningly.

"Just standard questions. You see we got a list of folks we have to question 'bout the murders." Sam answered smoothly and professionally.

She tilted back her head, mouth open as she nodded slightly as if to say 'ah'. "Okay."

"So why don't you live on campus?" Dean questioned after another moment of thick silence. They had been sitting at the round table in the kitchen for a while now. She had said he wasn't home yet, but that he would arrive any minute, so she invited them inside to wait.

"Oh, my dad needs some help with the house, you know keeping it clean and stuff, since he works late and all." She nodded, clearly taking the question seriously, thinking it was an important question. Though she didn't quite get what the brothers were hinting at.

"And your dad is he very strict? No curfew or anything….?" Dean continued, nodding with squinted eyes as if to say 'just say it, is your dad a human monster or just a damn monster?'

"No, not at all. But if I ever go anywhere while he's gone, I usually text him how long I'll be and where." Her eyes flickered between the brothers, looking for some kind of feedback if her answers were any help. The Winchesters were silent, watching her, waiting for her to say anything more.

"I mean all things considered, I got a pretty cool dad. I mean he's a little young, I guess. My mom and dad were highschool sweethearts. They had me when they were sixteen. Which is just crazy." She chuckled exaggeratedly. "They were together ever since." she nodded with a broad smile.

"And your mother, where is she?" Sam folded his hands on the table leaning closer to her empathetically. He felt a little silly, he was sure they were almost the same age, if not exactly.

They heard a sound outside a sputtering engine, slowing down outside.

"Please don't mention my mom to him." The brother's heads turned back, away from the window to her when she spoke hurriedly, leaning over the table and keeping her voice low as she stood up. "I'll tell you after." she nodded in promise as she walked around the table to their other side to the door.

When the door opened it was in their direction. They heard his voice before they could see him. His voice was soft, though likely one of the deepest they'd ever heard.

"Dad, we have visitors." She was handed a jacket. Blue, with yellowish fur on the collar. A jacket Sam recognized. "Yeah, who?" The brothers exchanged a look when his voice hit their ears. It sounded like a frightening voice even to them. Though something about it was gentle, curious. But Sam knew the face of the voice as she hung his jacket on a hook. He stepped into view, closed the door behind himself. They embraced, she was half a head shorter than him. The embrace was short, though the brothers could see both of them closed their eyes, as his hand rubbed up and down her back a few times.

Dean cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Mister Voss, my name is Dean, and this is Sam. We're with campus police, and would like to ask you a couple questions." Dean almost didn't want to look into this man's eyes. Not for fear, but for uncomfortableness. The bruises and wounds on his face were nothing short of hideous, and that was almost flattery. There was a wound with black stitches, staring at the side of his nose, just barely touching the cheek near the eye. The side Sam hadn't seen earlier that day at least looked a little better than the one with the endless bruise.

"Alright." It wasn't a 'let's do this', tone but something more elaborate, and less enthusiastic. It was a 'I respect your job, but let's get this over with.', it was followed by a soft groan too as he sat down in the fourth chair of the table. Dean noticed it, the pair clearly had 'their' designated seats at the table.

"We would like to know your profession." Sam casually pulled out a small notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket. They were dressed in their normal clothes, though they chose the more clean looking pieces of their respective wardrobes.

"I usually earn most o' my money with boxin' in parking lots, an' other." the chair he sat in creaked under his weight when he leaned back, hands in his lap.

The pen Sam was already holding against the paper froze in the air. Both brothers stunned with the man's honesty. And when they looked at his face, the blank, waiting expression that passed from one of them to the other, it was this more than the bruises that told them he wasn't lying.

"A-Alright." Sam tilted his head, clearing his throat as he collected himself. The man looked like a lumberjack, with a flannel shirt, the buttons having a hard job not popping off. The sleeves were tight, it was a pale brick colour with mustard details. The quater sleeves revealed white rolled up sleeves under them.

"Dad." It was as if they'd forgotten her. The brother's were surprised to hear her voice by the door. Her tone was like that of a mother. A 'be nice' tone, her eyes widened with the expression she gave her father.

"You go feed the dogs, sweetheart. It's almost dinner time." his gruff voice was gentle, not commanding or threatening. He gave her a single nod, closing his eyes for a moment, telling her everything was alright.

"Have you had any previous professions? A criminal record?" Sam tried to sound casual, uninvolved, like this was routine.

"Yes. Not yet." The man looked down at the notebook in Sam's hand as he answered, waiting for him to scribble down the answers.

"Elaborate?" Dean shook his head.

"I was a marine for six years, got deployed to Iraq 2004. Before that I worked at a gas station for some time." he answered. He would've sounded tired or perhaps bored, if it didn't seem like the way he simply always talked.

"You know about the murders on campus?" Sam asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah." He nodded. It was obvious the man had some kind of trouble showing emotion, at least when it wasn't towards his daughter. He was a stoic, cold and harsh looking man. Short hair, something between a shadow and a beard. Dean could see where Aria got her plump lips. His hair was something between blonde and brown. And only adding to his respectably fearsome appearance, he had a scar interrupting his right eyebrow.

"Azaria isn't a suspect right?" Neither of the hunters could see his expression change, they couldn't tell what had changed, though it told them there was only one right answer.

"No, no, of course not. These are just routine questions we have to ask pretty much everybody." Sam defended quickly, shaking his shaggy haired head.

The man nodded, and grunted, leaning his head back further as he did. Dean felt like he was in the Godfather or something. It was evident they weren't going to get much out of this guy, although he answered their questions without protest or hesitation, he never said much.

"Alright well…" Dean stood up from his chair stiffly, "if we have any more questions, we'll stop by." He gave the man an affirmative and polite nod as Sam followed his example, standing up and pushing his chair back into the table.

"You don't want to stay for dinner?" their heads turned to see the backdoor, Aria holding a large metal bowl in both hands as she looked at them with big eyes. "Depends on what's for dinner." Dean chuckled, throwing out his arms slightly as if to say 'why not'. Something about her made him forget the harsh man sitting at the table, no, not forget, but associating a sweet girl like her with him. To think he raised her, or helped do so made him think he only had a hard shell, like many people he'd met.

"Pasta." Aiden grunted with a shrug. When the brothers looked down at him, still sat at the table, he was looking at his daughter. The crows feet around his eyes pronounced as his head bobbed just barely, the ghost of a smile on his lips before he stood up to face the kitchen.

The hunters sat down again and soon Aria joined her father in the kitchen. They watched with curiosity as they quite possibly enacted the best display of teamwork they had ever seen. She pulled one cup, box and condiment after the other out of the fridge and various cupboards, holding them out for her father to take without looking. Neither in fact looked at each other, simply reaching, taking or giving as two pots were placed on the stove. "I'll get the basil." she said before she headed for the backdoor of the house again. "You two, take off your jackets, it's impolite." she gave Sam and Dean an amused look as she went by. They heard her father chuckle slightly, even with his back turned as they got up to hang their jackets on the hooks by the door. The atmosphere had gotten far more homely and welcoming, and the Winchesters felt truly accepted, and relaxed.

"You take off 'ya jackets, you take off your job." They saw his head move side to side as he spoke, stirring the pot on the stove.

"Dad, this is the last straw." She held a fist of basil in her hand as she stalked over to the stove where her father stood. "Don't put so much garlic in it, you know I hate that." she swiped the roots off the cutting board beside the stove giving him a weak glare.

"Well remind me to buy more straws, then." Aiden blew out the air through his nose as if to laugh. She looked at Sam and Dean clearly attempting to hide her smile from her father.

"Oh, careful." she pulled the pot of boiling water to the side as it was just about to spill while Aiden was busy adding to the sugo sauce.

"So you two are new in town…" "Yes, sir." Dean answered casually as he looked at photos on the wall. He had heard there was something to follow Aiden's sentence, spoken over a busy shoulder. "You found a place yet? I heard the prices are gonna go up soon enough." It seemed as though his voice had changed, somehow. It sounded the exact same, though now that their 'jobs were off', he seemed like a warmer man, hard shell nonetheless, but polite and welcoming to his daughter's guests.

"Oh we're uh, staying at a motel in town." Sam was the one to answer, unsure how far he should take their lies. Should he say they were genuinely moving here, looking for a white picket fence in the state of winds?

"Ah I get it." his gruff voice told them there was a smile on his face. "You're young, hopping states. I don't blame ya, taking a few years off." a chuckle left him when Aria slapped him on the arm slightly. What he said clearly came from his heart, and the brothers somewhat appreciated. After all, he had his daughter on his arm when he was even far younger than Sam.

"Do you guys want anything on the side? Bread, a salad?" The steam hit her face as she emptied the pot of noodles into a strainer in the sink.

"Salad if it's not too much trouble." Sam smiled, earning him a judgemental look from his brother.

"Yeah, don't overstay your welcome." Aiden chuckled reaching into the fridge. "Lord knows nobody in this house will eat it." he mused as he placed a whole head of lettuce on a cutting board, making Dean smirk at Sam.

When the foot was served and they all filled their plates Dean already had his first fork at his lips when he paused. Aria and Aiden's eyes were closed, their hands linked on the table, praying. She opened a single eye, squinting it at Dean. When she mouthed a 'you don't have to' at the brothers, they still waited, setting down their forks, Sam saying grace in his head as well.

"Elbows off the table, boy." Just as Dean was about to dig in, again he was interrupted by Aiden. Sam chuckled as Dean reluctantly moved his elbow back, off the table.

"Where does that even come from? How's it impolite." Aria looked at her father curiously as she twirled her pasta, wrapping it around her fork with the help of her spoon.

"Well first of all, you'll sit straighter." Aiden looked at his daughter with kind eyes, and she straightened her back subconsciously. "And second, I have no idea." he shook his head as he looked back down at his plate.

"Thanks." Aria chuckled with a roll of her eyes.

"Then how's it impolite?" Dean frowned confusedly, not realizing he was only repeating Aria's question.

"There's no real origin to that one." Sam spoke up with a small shrug. "At least nothing's clear. Some people say because of sailors who needed their plates to stay in place on rough seas. Others say it's because centuries ago people felt the need to guard their food. That kind of showed mistrust, and carried over to the modern-ages" he elaborated. The table became quiet, and Sam felt well uncomfortable when everybody looked at him.

"You're a campus cop?" Aiden finally said with amusement, a somewhat impressed look on his face when his shoulders jolted as if he was to laugh.

"Well I- uh, I didn't graduate." Sam muttered, quickly looking back down at his plate to shove another fork into his mouth.

"So, Aria," Sam swallowed, wanting nothing more than to change topic. "what's your degree?" he questioned.

"Doctorate in Biology Studies, and then I wanna head off to med school." she smiled proudly.

"Really?" Sam widened his eyes in surprise, a smile on his face. "Nurse or doctor?" he questioned curiously.

She was still smiling though it turned into something like a cringe, she rubbed a finger down the side of her nose quickly. "Surgeon." she snorted amusedly. Sam understood quickly, the stitches on her father's face were hers, he had to say though, they didn't look very skillfully done, though clean.

"I _saw_ that, sweetheart." her father commented offhandedly and immediately a short burst of laughter left her as her shoulders hunched with embarrassment. It was clear he wasn't angry, or offended, simply telling her she couldn't fool him.


	3. Chapter 3

She had a thick grey cardigan wrapped around herself, keeping it closed with crossed arms, hunching slightly as the harsh wind tore through the fabric and her hair. "You're gonna stay a little longer, right?" She tilted her head as the brothers stood in front of the impala. Aiden had told her to see their guests out once they were ready to leave after their 'dinner'. With how late her father worked it made sense he slept at odd times, hell, usually the Winchesters did too. Both of them frowned at her questions, her big hopeful eyes looking from one to the other and back.

"Yeah, a week or so." Sam nodded comfortingly.

She smiled faintly. "Dad likes you, y'know. I know he's a little… cold. You wanted to know about my mom, right?" She attempted to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear, the sleeves of her jacket over half of her hand, but the wind blew it away when her hand left it, her other arm still wrapped around herself.

"She got sick, like… real sick." She looked up at the skies, the word 'real' coming out as merely a breath of disbelief. "Just before dad got deployed. She died about… seven months later. Doctors couldn't do anything. And dad wasn't gonna come back, but he somehow… made it to her funeral. I'm not allowed to talk about her, or mention her…." she shook her head, her eyes shining with tears like the stars above.

Sam and Dean were giving her pitiful, sad looks until Sam thought of what she said. "What do you mean 'somehow'?" he asked suspiciously, though respectfully.

"I don't know. I don't know." she repeated shaking her head quickly. "If he was kicked out, or I don't know. I mean I was eighteen… do they just let people go because of funerals?" she frowned at them, stumbling over her words. It was clear Sam kicked loose a stone that was going to start an avalanche. It was as if she never questioned it before.

"Sometimes they do, yeah." Dean answered with a nod.

"Hey, how often does your dad do those… fights though? What are they even?" he frowned suddenly, shaking his head. Sure, when he sat at a table with him, and saw the way he looked at his daughter, he seemed like a great dad. But if he really thought about it, he was a terrible father.

"I don't know… like once a week, maybe. Depends on his condition." she shrugged uncomfortably. "They're just underground MMA fights and shit like that. Parking lots, basements, they're like rodeos 'round here, y'know." she muttered with a pitiful smile.

"He could get a real job. He really was a mechanic when I was a kid but he just… doesn't. I think he's just letting out some… anger. I don't think he really accepted mom's gone." Finally a tear slipped down her cheek, falling from her chin into the grass.


	4. The original Idea, Notes, Development

_This is quite possibly the only story I haven't 100% given up on. So these notes possibly contain **spoilers** , as there just might be more chapters to come._

* * *

 **VOSS**

Azaria _ARIA_ \- 22 (Hebrew, helped by god, rose)

Dad, Aiden - 38 (had her when he was 16)

Sam and Dean college security guards, undercover

Dean meets cute cheerleader. Overhears a professor trying to blackmail her into sexual acts view good grades or expelling her. Dean lowkey rescues her.

They ask around a lot, cheerleader comes up. Dean thought she was super popular girl, she's the type that would be back when he went to school. Now she's just… normal. No special.

They hear about her dad, think dad's a scumbag abusive or something. They go to the house, dad is really, really young. Turns out he's a great dad, and cheerleader and him are really close. And it's great.

Dad sold his soul in Iraq to get home to his daughter and take care of her when her mom died. He got himself two years, they're about to be over.

Sam and Dean are investigating some murders of young men and women. College Students. At first they think it has something to do with the college itself, after multiple late afternoons and nights spent there, they decide to further investigate the whole town. They split up and Sam looks around the local church. Talks to the priest there. Before he goes inside though, he sees Azaria's father, not yet knowing he's her dad. The priest mentions him and his daughter with a sad tone. Sam becomes curious, thinking it may be a lead. He asks to hear more but the priest says yeah nah mate sorry but I'm a priest, like a doctor can't share shit. Tells Sam that Aiden don't talk much, but is a kind hearted man.

So that night they visit the house. Dean recognizes Azaria when she opens the door. The bottle of liquor in her hand gives the Winchesters the wrong impression, that he is a bad father. When really, she was stitching up a wound on her father from an mma fight he had had. She tells them Aiden isn't home, and that they should swing by again the next day.

Instead, the Winchesters ask around the school, which changes their mind again, to go to the Voss' house anyway. Because now, they even more think that Aiden is abusive.

Aiden is at a fight again when they show up, but Aria invites them in saying he would be home any minute anyway. As it is a small parking lot bet fight, she knows her dad won't be in bad shape, and that it would be quite alright. The Winchesters ask her questions that hint at their suspicion. Never asking outright. She doesn't notice, it would never cross her mind.

When Aiden comes home, he hugs his daughter, rubs her back, and asks her who the two dudes are. Dean is instantly convinced Aiden is a nice guy when they sit down to have a talk. A gentle giant. Sam takes a while to believe it.

 _Anyways the dogs done did it._

Though, before Sam and Dean find out, and can solve the dog problem, the teacher that attempted to blackmail Azaria dies. Not torn to pieces, werewolf style, Shot in the head at his desk. Sam and Dean only find out about this murder, because they are woken up by a call to get to campus, as they are campus police. They know, Dean knows. It was Aiden. They rush to the Voss house after they can finally leave the job.

Big show, or well, talk down happens. Find out he sold his soul to see his daughter, to have his daughter for ten years. After he sold his soul he met, and talked to a few hunters here and there. He set out to find a black dog's bone. The skeleton of one. He finds a skull, a shoulder blade, and a rib. He made sanded them down to small small pieces, gave them to his daughter, in small glass vials which she keeps attached to her bag. He chained the black dogs to her. To protect her when he is _gone_.

Dad bought three dogs, backyard has a fenced off area where they stay. Very well trained dogs by Aiden himself. Since she was v v young Aiden told Aria to _**open the gate**_ if she's ever in trouble. They are _**black dogs.**_ **[** x **]**

Aiden - Tom Hardy (The Drop/Warrior)

Azaria - Linda Cardellini (Freaks and Geeks)

 _Open the gate, Azaria._


End file.
